


The voices in my head tell me to please be careful

by Killbothtwins



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: From all over canon, Gen, Psychic Bond, References to Flash s01e13 "Fallout", References to Legends of Tomorrow s01e05 "Fail-Safe", Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 17:18:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12709401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killbothtwins/pseuds/Killbothtwins
Summary: Sometimes, having a psychic connection with a 60-year-old sucks. Sometimes, having a psychic connection with a 20-year-old sucks.The things Firestorm shares.





	The voices in my head tell me to please be careful

**1\. Attitude**

Professor Martin Stein is not a brash man. Insensitive at times? Certainly. Perhaps a tad pretentious? Yes. In his youth, idiotic, of course. But brash, never.

Which doesn't explain his growing anger as he listens to the man speaking to him and a small group of others. They are at a fancy charity gala STAR Labs had put together, populated by most members of both teams, schmoozing with investors for the STAR Labs museum.

Jefferson and he had split, and Martin, lending his mind instead of his face to the Firestorm persona, is afforded a tad more anonymity than his counterpart. As a result, people tend to assume he's part of the crowd, not the superheroes.

The man drones on about the incompetence of the members of the Legends team, growing more loud with his complaints. He's drawing more attention, and some of the people he's talking about can clearly hear him.

Logically, Martin knows these are only words; Ms. Lance would probably laugh if she heard what he was alluding about her, Mr. Rory could handle himself, and Raymond was not at all what the man was saying. He could easily walk away and not listen at all.

Still, he can't help but feel his teeth gritting. Martin Stein is not a brash man. He does not act without thinking.

“I just don't see why they don't have more oversight, they're irresponsible-”

Martin rolls his eyes and punches him directly in the nose. The man goes down with a satisfying _thud._

Jefferson appears at his side in an instant. “Sorry.” The young man says as Martin stares down at his hand. “I was getting a little pissed.”

“Next time, please take a walk.” Martin requests, sighing, as Jax leads him away into the crowd.

Jefferson grins, snagging some ice off the refreshments table to put on Martin's aching hand. “But it felt good, right?”

“Surprisingly.” Martin admits. “But I'll leave it to you next time.”

* * *

**2\. Age**

“Get off my lawn, you troublemakers!” Jax yells at the teenagers horsing around near his mom's petunias.

They look up at him, startled, and scatter.

“And stop throwing your balls over my fence!” Jax adds, shaking his fist, then looks at his own hand and sighs.

“Damn, Grey, you’re old.” He muses. “Sorry!” He hollers after the fleeing kids.

* * *

**3\. Feelings**

Jax likes to hook up with his old football buddies, sometimes, when the Legends have a stopover in 2017. Max was one of his best high school friends; he actually the one Jax had been helping off the field the day he was hit with the particle accelerator. Jax wished he could tell his friend that his life hadn't been ruined that day at all, and had instead launched him into the best adventure of all time. (Literally.)

“So, what have you been up to?” Max asks, patting his friend companionably on the shoulder.

“Oh, you know, this and that.” Jax says with a grin. “Found a pretty good job as a mechanic on a ship.”

“Yeah?” Max asks as they stroll down the street. Jax likes to see as much of Central City as he can when they have shore leave, which basically means he and Max wander around their old neighborhood. “Sounds fun.” He sounds genuine, too; Max hadn't gone on to play football, either, instead going to work for a charity in the slums of the Glades in Star City.

“It-” Jax spots something out of the corner of his eye. His eyes widen as he takes in the older woman struggling to push the door of the grocery store closed and hold three bags of groceries.

“Clarissa!” Jax calls, rushing to hold the door open for her. “You shouldn't be doing this; you know that's Grey's job when he's in town.”

Max follows after, silently amused. Jax _really_ must have been away for a considerable time. The two boys had practically grown up together, and regardless of if you were her son or not, Mrs. Jackson would not hesitate to slap you on the head for addressing someone over thirty by their first name.

“Oh, it's alright, Jax.” Clarissa smiles, apparently used to being coddled by a kid more than half her age “There were only a few things for me to pick up.”

“At least let us carry your groceries to your car.” Jax insists. “This is Max, a friend from high school.” Jax smoothly shifts the bags from Clarissa's hands to his own, shouldering them easily.

“Nice to meet you.” Clarissa says, smiling indulgently at Jax as they walk through the parking lot.

“You too, ma’m.” Max nods, taking one of the bags out of Jax’s arms.

“And how is my husband?” Clarissa asks Jax conversationally.

“Good.” Jax says. “He and Lily are having a good time at the science museum. They’re such big nerds.”

“That they are.” Clarissa agrees as they stop near a sedan, which Jax already seems to know is hers. Max and Jax load the groceries into her car for her. Jax tuts when she tries to do it herself, which makes Max roll his eyes.

Jax and Clarissa exchange hugs, then to Max’s surprise Clarissa turns to him as well and hugs him. Jax waves her out of the parking lot with a fond look on his face.

“So?” Max asks. “Who was that?”

“My wi-” Jax stops himself mid sentence and makes a disgusted face. “The wife of someone I work with.”

“Cool.” Max says. “Oh, hey, you wanna get pizza?”

“Uh, obviously.”

* * *

**4\. Food Preferences**

Jax pauses from where he’s trying to eat a sandwich and groans.

Leonard looks over at him, eyebrow raised as he shuts the fridge.

“It’s Grey’s stupid palate.” Jax complains. “He like, _really_ hates mayonnaise.”

“So?” Snart asks, though he pretends not to care. 

“I _love_ mayonnaise.” Jax complains, looking sadly at his sandwich. He hopefully tries a bite, then gags.

Stein sticks his head in the door, looking green. “Are you eating _mayonnaise_?”

Leonard rolls his eyes. “You two are kind of creepy.”

“I can’t believe you would do this to me.” Jax says mournfully. “Is nothing sacred?” He gestures with his own sandwich, then gags again when he smells it and scowls. “ _Nothing!?_ ”

“You need to spend a little less time fused.” Leonard mutters, snags the sandwich, and gives it to Mick when he runs into him in the hallway.

“Score.” The pyro says, digging into it eagerly despite the fact that there’s already several bite marks in it.

Jax makes a sad noise.

* * *

**5\. Dreams**

Martin bounces from foot to foot, trying to keep warm despite the fact that he can see his and his teammates’ breath. His jersey and shoulder pads provide a thin layer of protection; more effective in warming him is the adrenaline coursing through his body.

“Ready?” His coach asks.

_(Martin Stein has never played a game of football in his life)_

“Ready, coach.” Martin says eagerly. He’s fairly certain he can make the winning point. _(Home run? Basket? Martin Stein has never played a game of football in his life)_

Martin runs out onto the field on young legs, surveying the crowd to see his mom and grandma there, waving signs eagerly. He waves back, beaming.

Martin squints into the crowd. Is that Han Solo next to his mother?

_(He saw Star Wars in theaters)_

_(He’d watched all three Star Wars movies with his mom on the couch for the first time, because it was his mom’s favorite movie)_  
“Catch!” One of Martin’s teammates yells, and he catches the football, sprinting down the field. The bright lights swell, the crowd goes crazy, and the music starts to play--

Martin tumbles out of bed. He’s far too old to be doing so; his hip aches from where it hit the unforgiving floor of the _Waverider,_ and his eyes are bleary without his glasses to guide him in the dim artificial lighting. He feels only the barest hints of Jefferson beginning to awaken, roused by the stinging in his hip and the sudden wakeup of his counterpart.

Martin sends him a psychic wave of comfort, reassuring Jefferson that they are not currently under attack, something that happens surprisingly often on the _Waverider._ Jefferson mumbles an affirmation, an interesting feat when inside one’s own head, and goes back to sleep.

Stein levers himself back up, groaning. It’s been some time since he’d dreamed the dreams of a young man, not of an old, tired professor. He climbs back into bed, wondering somewhat bitterly if Jefferson dreams of playing Scrabble with Clarissa or arguing with his own graduate students. He hopes so, if only as payback.

He closes his eyes, and he’s on a beach with a couple of friends on spring break, trying to learn how to surf when he catches a faceful of sand. _(Martin Stein had never surfed in his whole life)_

Inwardly, he groans.

* * *

**6\. Markings**

Amaya hears the voices of a couple of her new teammates. It sounds to be an argument, so she would really rather go the other way. She’s still wary of all of them, besides the fact that she doesn’t actually want to make friends with these people. They are colleagues, nothing more, if even that. They are going to stop Rex’s killer, and then she will go home.

Nate, the metal man, it seems, has no such compunctions. He tugs her forward with a smile, inserting himself into the conversation with an ease Amaya refuses to admit she is jealous of.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” Nate asks Jackson and Professor Stein, the two they stumble across.

“ _Grey-_ ” Jax says, huffing.

“ _Jefferson-_ ” Stein interrupts.

Jackson shoots him a glare, folding his arms. “Grey won’t let me get a tattoo.” He complains.

Amaya crinkles her brow. “Why?” It seems none of the elder man’s business, despite the fact that they’re partners.

“Exactly!” Jefferson says, and Stein rolls his eyes. Amaya is still not used to this level of familiarity in a team, except for what she had had with Rex, which was, of course, not allowed. Even when they argue it is never pointed, never designed to actually hurt.

“What my counterpart is neglecting to mention is that him getting a tattoo would mean that I received one as well, due to our psychic link.” Stein says. “So, no, Jefferson, I would not like a tattoo.”

“Really? That’s cool.” Nate says.

“See? Cool.” Jefferson says. Amaya notes that he already has a variety of tattoos, visible poking out through the sleeves of his strange shirt. She still doesn’t understand fashion in the future, though she is getting used to it.

“What if you both agree on a tattoo?” Nate suggests.

“Yeah, Grey, I’ll get something classy.” Jax promises.

“How bout a picture of my face?” Rory says, pushing past the group so he can get to the kitchen. As far as Amaya can tell, that’s where he spends most of his time. She blinks. She hadn’t taken him for the type with such dry, casual humor. Then again, she’d also thought he was Rex’s killer.

“Yeah, how about a picture of Mick’s face?” Jax says. “Classy.”

“I like it.” Nate declares.

“I’m too old for a tattoo.” Stein says. “And I would rather not have Mr. Rory’s face staring up at me each day, thank you.”

“Your loss.” Mick disappears into the kitchen.

“Actually, many members of my tribe got tattoos well past your age.” Amaya says, mouth twitching. “It shows respect and spiritual maturity.”

“Thank you very much, Ms. Jimwe.” Stein says.

“What if I get it somewhere unnoticeable?” Jax tries to compromise. “How about my hip?”

“No.”

“Heel?”

“No.”

Jax considers for a moment.

“I once met someone who got a tattoo inside their earlobe.” Amaya offers up. Jax’s eyes light up.

“No.”

Jax pouts.

“I have enough markings, thank you very much, Jefferson.” Stein rolls up his sleeves slightly; Amaya is surprised to find a scar on each arm, or more accurately a collection of scars. She can read _-MING_ and _WHERE,_ a different word for each arm _._ She steals a glance at Jax’s forearms again, looking past the tattoos. One of the scars is missing entirely, but she can clearly read the words _WE’RE COMING_ on one of the younger man’s arms.

Huh.

Jax huffs out a breath. “Ankle?”

“No.”

“You could get a teardrop.” Nate suggests, laughing and leaning against the wall. Amaya’s surprised she’s stayed in the conversation this long, only now realizing the comfortable camaraderie in the air. “Make you both look cool.”

“Bellybutton piercing?” Jax suggests, looking more impish now than actually trying to argue.

“You could get a toe tattoo.” Nate adds.

“The kneecap is very subtle.” Amaya says. “And classy.”

“No tattoos!” Stein stalks away, throwing his hands into the air.

“I could get our names on my butt!” Jax calls after him, getting a frustrated groan in response.

* * *

**7\. Illnesses**

It's not actually certain which half of Firestorm had originally contracted a cold, but it is certain that they're now both miserable.

Jax sneezes into a tissue, and three rooms away, they can hear Stein do the same. “Kill me?” Jax asks hopefully.

“No can do.” Sara says apologetically. “Rip made me promise not to kill any of my team members.”

Jax groans, and sniffles. Stein walks into the bridge, and the two sneeze simultaneously.

“Break the rule just once?” Jax begs. “It would be a mercy killing.”

“Sorry, no can do.” Sara says, patting his forehead and wiping her hand off on her jeans a second later, looking faintly disgusted.

Jax groans and slides down in his seat, looking like death. By extension, so does Stein.

Jax sneezes again--though maybe it’s Stein, this time, since there’s no pause between the two.

“Ew.” Kendra observes. “I mean _aww_.” She adds when Jax gives her a pitiful glare. “Uh, which one of you should I give the box of tissues to?”

* * *

**8\. Toys**

Martin and Jefferson are, technically, over twenty years apart, but at the moment, they’re approximately the same age. Mary Xavier doesn’t have any issue with this, though; the little boy cutting up her drapes is also visiting in the next room, about to graduate from the academy.

Jefferson is one of the sweetest babies Mary has ever had in her care. He doesn't seem to do much, just stares up at her with big eyes and only cries if he's not changed in time. He is the ideal baby.

Martin, not so much. While Leonard, the other newborn, is a bit of a brat, he's nowhere as bad as Martin, who fusses almost constantly.

“Stop.” Mick, another one of the Mary's new charges, tells Martin. “Why are you crying?” Xavier had thought that taking care of the children might distract young Michael from his obsession with fire, but as of yet he hasn’t truly gotten along with any of the children except for Leonard. Sometimes she could swear they were planning something.

“This one won't stop crying.” Mick tells Xavier, looking uncomfortable.

“Give him a toy.” Xavier suggests mildly.

“I did.” Mick says. “He won't stop. I want the other kid back. Jefferson. He's easier.”

Jefferson is, indeed, currently in The Xavier's arms, staring up at her quietly with an adorable look on his face. He sucks quietly on a little stuffed elephant.

Martin wails louder, and, as Mick looks to be about to drop the child in favor of covering his ears, Mary moves to intervene.

The moment Jefferson and Martin come in proximity, Jefferson becomes more active, while Martin slightly lessens his cries. As Xavier gets directly next to Mick and Martin, Martin stops crying completely. The two babies eye each other a moment, almost sizing each other up.

After a minute of contemplation, Jefferson drops his stuffed elephant. Mick catches it, midair, and hands it to Martin, who drops the other toy and finally looks placated.

Mary picks up the other toy and gives it to Jefferson, who resumes doing absolutely nothing.

When she moves away from Martin, he doesn't start crying. He has, it seems, gotten what he wanted.

“Why are you like this.” Mick asks Martin, putting him down. Martin coos up at him. Mick makes a face.

* * *

**9\. Sentences**

The words inside Jax's head trip over themselves and fight for what is getting out first. The problem they're facing is _mechanical,_ which is just his area of expertise. It's also chemical, which is _Stein's_ area of expertise.

This means that their head is rather jumbled already as they land by the _Waverider_ and unfuse.

“We just need to-”

“Tweak the electrical component of the device in order to-” Stein says.

“Minimize the range and get rid of the effect on the population-” Jax says, bouncing with ideas and residual energy from the fight.

“So all we have to do is tweak-”

“Gideon’s systems to send out a pulse and we should be good!” Jax says. The rest of the team is staring. “What?"

“You literally didn’t even finish one sentence.” Sara says. “Like, not even one.”

“Kind of disturbing.” Rip muses.

Jax stops and scowls. “You want to be connected to another person’s brain for three hours and then try to sort out which thought is whose?” He asks. “You’re lucky I’m not telling you about my time as a particle physicist.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Sara says, and mutters to Rip. “They’re grumpy today.”

“We heard that!” Stein and Jax echo.

“Ugh.” Sara says. “So creepy.”

* * *

**10\. Clothes**

Jax whistles and jams his hands in his pockets as he leaves his quarters in the _Waverider,_ dressed and ready to face whatever adventures they're going to face today.

Across the hall, he spots Grey, also whistling and leaving his room. They pause as they catch sight of each other. They're wearing the same exact outfit, down to the pullover sweater and the socks.

They look each other up and down in silence a moment. Jax wonders if it was his fashion sense or Stein's that bled over this time.

Jax sighs at the same time as Stein. “I'll change.” They both say simultaneously, and turn back into their rooms.


End file.
